


Barricade

by trashpocket



Series: SSSS; A Series of Wonderful, Fortunate Events [5]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: (my take on them), A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gay, Grinding, Hand Jobs, High School, Hugs, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Love, M/M, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Non-Penetrative Sex, Parties, Pining, Romance, Swearing, Teen Things, Violence, Yearning, at the end, awkward smut, cause why not, cliches, just a lot of angst, mild homophobia, warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashpocket/pseuds/trashpocket
Summary: In which Emil said yes to going out with somebody else, and Lalli is ready to commit murder.________________(TW: mentions of bullying and mild homophobia, but dont worry, our characters are fine. This is just some typical Senior HS AU)
Relationships: Lalli Hotakainen & Emil Västerström, Lalli Hotakainen/Emil Västerström
Series: SSSS; A Series of Wonderful, Fortunate Events [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835107
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. A Mess

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Bullying and Mild Homophobia 
> 
> had to post this whole thing and get it out of my system 
> 
> (and if ur here for the smut, its chapter 2, baby)  
> _____________________________
> 
> anyways, thank you for giving this fic the time of your day! I'd really appreciate it if you guys left any thoughts or comments, and apsdpasokdoapsd, i hope ya'll just enjoy this very dramatic high school AU tropy schmuck. 
> 
> (im sorry i couldnt spell the Vasterstrom name's right, it's just, my browser?? keyyboard??? won't allow me to change the vowels properly, and I can't even put emdashes!!!! aosidjasidj but anyways, ignore me)
> 
> NOW GO!!!! ENJOY!!!! OR SUFFER, IDK, WHICHEVER ONE YOU WANT
> 
> (and also: fic is inspired by Elliot Moss's "Barricade")

_What the hell am I doing here in the golden dark?_ _  
_ _Feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part_ _  
_ _I built up barricades to block my heart_ _  
_ _Cause I don’t wanna fear you_

* * *

  
  


The nights are rare, when they can sleep like this. Where consciousness slips away like singular droplets of water, sliding down a glass plane, seeking solace at the bottom where everything culminates, settles, _suppresses._ Lalli doesn’t remember when nights like this have become routine; a sparse habit that is sprinkled throughout the week, _but a habit, nonetheless._ He doesn’t count how many times a week, but he has a fair estimate. When the nights stretch long, and sleep eludes him, Lalli knows to trail after it (climb out the window, run down a few blocks, bare feet and all), slip into the Vasterstrom estate (over the iron-wrought fences, and miles upon miles of grass and gardens), and up Emil’s window (by climbing the vines that ran up the side of the house). Emil always left his windows unlocked, and each time, Lalli would scold him about it, though he knew Emil left them open for him. 

Each time Lalli opened the windows, anyway, it made the stress on his shoulders lift, and he knew the night would come to a rest soon.

But that night was not tonight.

“Stop that,” Lalli tells him, when Emil has drummed his fingers for the seventeenth time on the covers of the bed. Lalli knows he does it out of nervous habit, but really, he should have nothing to worry about. They’ve already slept in each other’s beds many times, so whatever worry Emil had on his mind, it was probably something else. 

He heard Emil sigh, and then shift. Lalli decided to turn over from his side too, and both he and Emil stared down the ceiling above them with varying degrees of interest. Lalli, in a tired regard, and Emil, with a twitchy nervousness. He was about to begin drumming the bed between them, before deciding not to. Instead, his hand slipped down, gripped Lalli’s loosely. 

Lalli jumped a bit at the sudden touch, before his hand settled stiffly. _Was it okay? To have his heart raise at this simple gesture? For them to be like this?_

“Sorry, Lalli,” Emil apologized, and his thumb was now brushing the back of his hand, in a soothing manner that burnt straight into his reverie. Lalli tried to not let it get to himself.

“Mrrr,” Lalli voiced back, turning on his side to face Emil, trying to ignore the contact of their hands. “You’re worried about something. Tell me.” Their hands have already touched too much to be able to mean something, and Lalli wasn’t quite good at naming things. In fact, he was scared to name--whatever this was. _Whatever they had._

Emil hummed underneath his breath, before his mouth opened several times, to which no coherent word escaped. Lalli stared at him, trying to pinpoint _why_ exactly Emil was being weird. 

“Erik asked me out,” Emil told him, not even easing into the sudden topic. Lalli stiffened up, as Emil continued. “And I don’t know what to do, really, and I know he’s a handsome guy,” he says quickly, and doesn’t notice how Lalli’s hand slowly retreats from his grip, as Emil gesticulates with no small matter. “I don’t know what to say or how to act, even though he invited me to a party, which is kinda _ehh_ , but still,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair. Lalli only has half a mind in the topic now, not wanting to hear more, but he had to at least grace the man beside him with a response. 

“A party?” is all he supplies though, not wanting to even _think_ of that piece of shit Erik. Not like Lalli had any say on who Emil was allowed to date--it was just-- it _had_ to be _Erik. Why him? Why a party? Emil deserved more._

“Yeah, like one of those loud ones Sigrun would throw, though the one’s Sigrun throws are _always_ better, but besides the point,” Emi turned his eyes to Lalli, and Lalli stared back into his worried eyes. He tried not to notice how his face was terribly close, and so terribly beautiful. How the window let enough moonlight in to glitter in Emil’s hair. To carve out a face he has known for so long, into something so beautiful and elegant that only _he_ can witness, at nights together like this. _Fuck you, Erik_ , he thought. This sight was only for Lalli, and Lalli knew he was selfish that way, but he didn’t care.

Emil continued, and shrugged, “I know you’re not good at things like this. It’s okay, really, but I just wanted to tell you, cause, you know. If I need some saving from a disastrous date, or god forbid, any saving _from myself_ .” Emil pressed his face into his hands, hiding the glowing pink of his cheeks. “I _do not_ want another episode of singing in my underwear under drunk influence. Or just-- _any_ singing in underwear in general!” 

Lalli knew that memory the best ( _and not only the memory, but the sight as well_ ), but even then, Lalli’s chest felt tight at the thought of Emil being with someone, and that someone being _that way_ with him. He couldn’t help but pull Emil’s hands away from his face, seeing those eyes squeezed in worry. He squeezed Emil’s hands once in comfort, and let the touch bleed a bit of his heart. 

“It’s okay,” Lalli assures him. “Will be there for you.” 

And Emil smiles at him, in exaggerated relief with the way he releases a large breath, flopping an arm over his eyes. “Thank you, Lalli!” 

He moves his hand slightly, and one, lonely eye peeks out underneath his arm, crinkled in a smile that makes Lalli’s heart tighten even more, _so horribly tight, he can hardly breathe_. “I really mean it. Thank you.” The edge of his smile tugs at Lalli’s stomach, and with words taken from his mouth, so suddenly, Lalli can only nod, pull the covers up to his chin, and hope to sleep away the night. 

But sleep eludes him, and Lalli wonders if he had followed it to the wrong place tonight. 

* * *

His fingers are drumming across the steering wheel, and Lalli counts the amount of times they tap-- _five, six, seven_ \--until he sighs underneath his breath, and reaches across the small distance between them. He curls his long fingers around Emil’s soft hands, and notes how cold and clammy they are. He casts a glance to Emil, who already knows what that gaze means. _What’s wrong?_

Emil smiled nervously, hands itching to fix his hair. “J-just nervous, is all. Never really liked going out to other parties unless it was Sigrun’s.” 

Lalli silently reached over and fixed his hair for him, fingers dancing and separating the strands of soft hair in a memorized pattern that Emil had already taught him. Under the city lights, they were the color of rust and copper, shimmering here and there. Lalli wondered what thoughts he could glean from the head of gold, because he didn’t--and _couldn’t_ \--understand why Emil would go to a party with an asshole like Erik. Go to a place, cramped and filled with strangers, with some booze around, and some uncomfortable games. Even worse were those people who did unspeakable things in the dark, which Lalli had the unfortunate luck, to be a witness to. _It wasn’t his fault that he liked dark spaces, and that people happened to never notice him under the bed._

Lalli scowled. “Sigrun at least keeps you safe in _her_ parties. Erik and his friends are _assholes_ ,” he hisses the word. They stop at the red light of an intersection. 

“Hey, don’t say that! I can defend myself just fine without Sigrun!” Emil retorted, brows squashed together in his wounded pride at the insinuation. “Besides, maybe they’re not _as bad_ , anymore. They said that last time was an accident or something, and I walked away just fine, right?” Emil reassured him, but to Lalli, it only sounded more like he was convincing himself of that, and Lalli snorted derisively. 

“Yeah, you walked out fine. After you had to go to Mikkel with a _burn on your hand_ ,” Lalli spat out angrily, reaching over to fetch Emil’s left hand on the steering wheel, to feel the smooth, almost glossy skin there, stretching from the back of his hand, over to the webbing in between his thumb and forefinger, and onto the meat of his palm. Running his fingers over the pigmented patches soothed Lalli, but also stoked the fires of his anger. Emil pulled his hand away, face red and burning. _Was he angry at Lalli? Embarrassed?_ It didn’t matter, as Emil once again, opposed. 

“I told you, it was just an _accident_ ,” he ground out, to which Lalli glared at Emil, eyes rolling with the anger of a thunderstorm. 

“You can handle _fire_ , Emil,” Lalli reminded him. “You _taught_ me how to handle fire. Don’t be stupid.” His words were true, and Lalli could swear even by the gods that Emil didn’t even believe in.

Emil fell silent to Lalli’s words, and though Lalli ought to have felt triumphant, he rather felt guilty instead for pointing out Emil’s affinity for fire. It only raised the tension in the car more. But Emil had to hear it, and Lalli just wished Emil wasn’t so nice as to even defend the people who hurt him. Accident or not. They made a mistake already by hurting Lalli’s friend. 

Instead of snapping back, Emil sighed in defeat, and Lalli let go of the end of his jumper, which he had been unconsciously palming in his hand. Emil glanced to Lalli, a weak smile on his face, as his hand snaked to pat the back of Lalli’s hand with gentle fingers.

“Fine, I won’t be stupid, but then you have to trust me, okay?” Emil asked of him softly, and Lalli was surprised by the meekness of his request. How Emil’s eyes softened under the orange lights of the street, offset by the purples hues of the sunset that ran across the sky. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll come to you. We’ll go home fast, and watch that stupid Big Foot documentary, and eat some cookies, okay?” He ended this with a squeeze to Lalli’s hands, and Lalli pressed his lips into a thin line, brows only slightly pulling down in worry, because he knew when promises like these were made, something _bad_ was bound to happen. 

_But when promises like these are made_ , Lalli looks up into Emil’s eyes and sighs his own defeat. _People who desperately make them always want something in the end._ Lalli knows that unfortunate feeling, and seeing it upon Emil’s face for someone else is _painful_ ; like a knife being twisted in his heart, and being pulled which way or the other. It angers him, frustrates him, makes him feel _hopeless_. 

But Emil trusts him enough to come back to him, and Lalli cannot deny him that trust, even if somewhere deep in his gut, something twists with a feeling of _wrongness_ . As if something might happen that night, and Lalli knows that his intuition is mostly, _right_. It never fails him.

But he loves Emil, and that wins him over. 

“You promise,” Lalli finally says, looking out the window. He shrugs Emil’s hand off pettily, but Emil’s relief and happiness is so radiant and distracting, that he doesn’t even see nor feel the petty reaction. A car honks behind them angrily, and Emil cursed under his breath, driving forward into the intersection once he saw the green light. 

“I definitely promise, Lalli! _Shit_! Haha, thank you!” Emil smiles at him, and though Lalli doesn’t see it, he can feel it anyway, burning like the sun behind his back. 

Lalli closed his eyes, setting his forehead against the cool glass of the window, not wishing to see anything. Just wishing he could have that night with Emil faster, even if he knew he _hated_ that Big Foot documentary.

* * *

Lalli is indifferent most of the time. _But he hates it here._

Where the songs are too loud, and the lights are too bright. People are close-- _too close_ \--and he can smell a lot of sweat coming off of the bodies of other people, as they physically ground into each other with no regard for the world around them. Everything is cluttered, food spilled over carpets and tiles, and he is _hating it here._

“Lalli, I just don’t get it,” Tuuri wrinkled her brow in skepticism, as she leaned over the table and peered into the living room where the majority of the mess was. “Why would _Erik_ of all people ask Emil out?” Lalli didn’t dare look into the other room, but he narrowed his eyes on Tuuri, who shook her head, and cleared up. “Not that anything’s wrong with _Emil_ , what I meant was, wasn’t Erik a bit of an... _ass_? To Emil?” 

Lalli shrugged, picked a bit of lint off of his sweater, as he crossed his legs underneath the table, refusing to look up or _anywhere_ where his eyes might stray to a particular person. “Don’t know,” Lalli replied to her after a bit. “Emil went with him anyway.” _Stupid Emil,_ went unsaid. He played with the ends of his fingers, where Emil had touched him and reassured him.

Lalli ignored Tuuri’s undignified huff, though he shared the same annoyance that she held on her face as she set her chin on top of her palm. “This party isn’t even a _date_ . Emil deserves more than this! If he hurts Emil, I swear to the gods, I will cut Erik’s balls off and flay him alive, before setting him on a pyre! And-- _and_!” 

Lalli reached across the table, and gripped Tuuri’s shoulder. His eyes were serious, with no doubt or hesitancy flickering in his grey depths. A sea that roiled with a fury of hurricanes and swallowed despairing ships. His voice held no warmth of a jest. “I will torture him and make him beg within an inch of his life if he even touches Emil in the wrong way. He should watch every finger on his hand, before I allow the gods to _take them._ ” 

Tuuri looked back at him nervously, before smiling and rolling her eyes. “Leave it up to you to do the worst of it all when it comes to Emil, Lalli. You _drama queen._ ” A smirk twitched on the ends of her lips.

Lalli ignored her after that, opting to hide under the table and wait out the shit storm that was the entire party. The night, however, only gets worse from there. 

Mikkel arrived at the party, his calm, yet intimidating presence making people run away from the kitchen, and Lalli didn’t really think his presence was terrible. It only made Tuuri chatter loudly and quickly, and Lalli did not have the patience to even try and understand half of what she was saying, in the quick succession she managed to say each and every word. It reminded Lalli of a bird, twittering very fast in the morning. 

“I somehow keep forgetting you like confined spaces, Lalli,” Mikkel told him, when Lalli bumped against Mikkel’s rather large foot. Lalli only scowled at him, hands over his ears. He brightened up his stormy expression, however, when Mikkel handed him a cookie. 

“You should really stop giving him sweets, Mikkel. He has an appointment with the dentist soon,” Tuuri sighed, fingers drumming across the table top. . 

Lalli disagreed. “He should give me more, if he knows what’s best for him.” His words were no more shorter, than a threat. Mikkel shrugged, handed him another. Lalli snatched them from his grasp.

“Where the hell do you even keep those?!” Tuuri shouted in exasperation, and Lalli happily munched on his cookie, before he saw a pair of army boots march loudly across the tiled floor, and from the sound of the heavy, confident steps, it was Sigrun. Lalli huddled into himself, already feeling overwhelmed with the presence of the red-haired loudmouth. 

“Who the hell even cares where he keeps those, fuzzy?!” Sigrun laughed, ruffling Tuuri’s hair. “The more important question is whether baking cookies excuses him from his _shit_ cooking skills!” Her laugh leapt and bounded, like a bellowing lion, filling every corner of the kitchen with her noise. Lalli closed his eyes in annoyance, before shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth. Lalli dodged Mikkel’s leg, which folded on top of itself in what seemed to be silent annoyance. 

“My _shit_ cooking skills help you stay alive, captain,” Mikkel said, matter of fact. “The only thing that comes from your hands is death, or a punch the size of Sweden.” 

Tuuri made a sound. “How is a punch from her worse than death?” 

Mikkel gazed at Tuuri with pity. “Because you are left with the unfortunate luck to be alive, Tuuri.” By Mikkel’s look, Tuuri knew better than to ask any questions. 

Lalli startled, when Sigrun dropped her weight on top of the table, and it screeched across the floors painfully. He hissed, kicking her one leg that was supporting her weight. Sadly, her weight did not buckle, and she did not come crashing down to the floor like he had hoped she would. It filled him with annoyance.

“Agh, sorry scout! Forgot you were there for a moment!” She apologized, bending down to look at Lalli in the darkness underneath. His eyes only glared at her, but perhaps the sight of him alone was strange to her, because she asked, “Oh! Where’s my lovely little Swede? My right hand warrior? Isn’t he supposed to be with you, twig?” 

With the mention of Emil, Lalli’s already sour expression became worse, his glare poisonous and deadly, though it wasn’t meant for _Sigrun_ . He turned his back to her, grumbling underneath his breath, “He’s with stupid _Erik_ .” He spat the name with venom, before he closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears in his frustration. _Why couldn’t the night just end sooner?_ Above him, the conversation grew rather stilted. 

Instead of tossing the fact aside in her usual fashion, Sigrun grew silent. At the sight of her brows furrowing together in contemplation, Mikkel couldn’t help but voice his concern over the sudden seriousness that befell Sigrun’s visage. Once you got the captain to start _thinking_ about something, you had _everything_ to worry about. “You don’t seem too happy about that, Sig.” Tuuri looked worriedly between the two of them, caught in the sudden shift.

Sigrun leaned her hip against the table, carefully taking off her leather jacket as she said, “Can’t say I am, ‘Kel. You remember what happened last time. I still don’t have a good feeling about the asshole. Missed the chance at beating him up.” Mikkel and Tuuri sat up straighter at the sight of Sigrun taking off her jacket. 

That action always meant one thing. _She was preparing for a possible fight._

“Well, I hope this evening doesn’t end in unnecessary violence,” Mikkel warned her, though unconsciously, he rolled up his own sleeves, prepared to intervene in anything physical soon, if shit were to hit the proverbial fan. Sigrun grinned, taking note of the unconscious action herself. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about _me_ delivering unnecessary violence, though,” Sigrun jabbed a thumb down the table, where Lalli lay in his little nook of darkness. “Little twig got the shit down all on his own!” Sigrun reached over to puff up Tuuri’s hair once again, and Tuuri looked up at her questioningly. “And _you_ will explain to your brother Onni that we didn’t start the violence this time.” 

Tuuri snorted. “Tough luck that. Onni always thinks that _we’re_ the instigators of violence. The stupid oaf.” Tuuri rolled her eyes affectionately. 

“Technically speaking, he isn’t _exactly_ wrong most of the time,” Mikkel piped up to which Sigrun rolled her eyes, stealing a cup of alcohol over the table and looking down into its contents to see if it _was_ alcohol or _something else._

“ _Most of the time_ ,” Sigrun pointed out happily. “But, he’ll be wrong this time, if Erik _does_ do some shitty move!” Sigrun scrunched her nose up after taking a swig of what was inside the cup, finding it was just some lemon ice tea. “Seems sort of suspicious that he’d ask Emil out of the blue, don’t you think?” 

Underneath the table, Lalli grumbled underneath his breath, the discussion of Emil grating his mind. He opened his eyes, noting the different colored lights that flashed from the living room, and reached its way into the shadows underneath the kitchen table somehow. _Red, blue, and gold_ . It grated his nerves, the gold lights flashing and reminding him too much of Emil, as the noise of the music and the discussion bothered him further. He knocked a fist up on the table. “Stop talking about Emil and who he’s _dating_.” 

The words were bitter, and he spat them out like glass shards. He wished to crush them beneath his feet, but instead, his legs were crossed in a lock, and the night was only pulling away his willingness to stay in this stuffy house any longer. 

He glared at Sigrun, when he saw her eyes peer over the edge of the table to look at him. “Because _you’d_ rather be the one dating Emil right now, huh, twig?” Her teasing wasn’t harmful, but the words: _date_ and _Emil_ were two things which he knew he wanted for himself, and to be reminded that he _didn’t_ have either tonight only angered him further. 

“I’ll _rip your face off_ , you _red haired giant_.” 

It was at that perfect moment that Reynir had appeared, and had been looking down the table at Lalli along with Sigrun. His eyes widened in fear, and he squeaked out, “I-Is he talking about _me_?! I thought we were friends! I’ve worked so hard to get onto his good side for months!” 

To rub some salt into the wound, Sigrun solemnly clasped Reynir by the shoulder, offering him a small, grim smile. “It’s alright, Reynir. I’ll protect you, even if the remains of your friendship can no longer be salvaged.” She sighed, shaking her head, as Mikkel silently chuckled along with her. Tuuri stood up and slapped Sigrun on the back of the head, making the woman wince but also peel off in laughter. 

“Cut that out, Sigrun! Don’t make fun of the poor idiots!” Tuuri scolded Sigrun, the look on her face promising hell to pay. Then Tuuri turned to peer at Lalli underneath the table, expression softening into pity. “Hey, you just wanna go home? You’re _clearly_ miserable under there. We could watch over Emil for you. Make sure he gets home safe.” In the background, a large crash and resounding cheers came from the living room. 

Lalli ignored the noise and grumbled underneath his breath. “Can’t. Promised I’d stay for him and stop him from doing anything stupid.” Tuuri rolled her eyes (thinking that Emil _had_ already done something stupid by going out with Erik) before she sighed in defeat, reaching underneath to pet Lalli’s head, which he batted her hand away and hissed. 

“Fine, we’ll wait for him,” Tuuri said to him finally. 

From what Lalli could see underneath the table, Reynir’s beaten up shoes stepped around the table and took a seat next to Mikkel. His leg began to fidget nervously, as he said over the table, “Oh! Speaking of Emil, I think I saw him go upstairs with Erik!” 

Lalli closed his hands around his ears tighter, burrowing into himself and wishing for the pandemonium in his chest to stop. It didn’t have anything to do with the noise or the raucous laughter of the house any longer. His world consisted of his aching heart, and how he wished to forget the night and of who Emil was with. He wanted to curl up somewhere dark, where nobody could find him. He had a half-formed idea to kick Reynir in the shins to stop him from talking, but his chest squeezed too tight to even follow through. Tuuri, though, held no qualms and kicked Reynir in the shin as a silent warning.

“What the hell are they even doing up there?” Sigrun piped up. 

Lalli couldn’t see Reynir, but he had a feeling that the tall boy was playing with his hair and shrugging along. “Beats me! But I just find it sorta, um, _strange?_ Emil didn’t really seem... _excited_. He wasn’t even brushing his hair aside like he usually does! He even told me to go away, and just wait for him with all of you, which got me confused. I thought we were all hanging out.” There was a pout in his voice. 

Lalli opened his eyes, and crawled out from underneath the table. _If Emil never smoothed his hair down, it would mean he wasn’t nervous, excited, or determined. So what could he be feeling?_ He situated himself next to Tuuri, and the others didn’t comment on his sudden interest on the topic. 

“Well, what _was_ he doing then?” Tuuri asked impatiently, nearly batting Reynir’s hands away when his fidgeting got a bit distracting. 

Reynir pulled a face. “Ah, _well_ , he looked sorta scared? And _\--_ ” 

A loud crash came from the living room, and a few shouts and curses flew over the din. There was a _very_ familiar male shout, and Lalli shot out of the kitchen, dodging bodies that milled about and obfuscated his view. However, the crowd was too thick, there was a fight somewhere near the corner of the room, and people were too busy gawking like idiots to even try to intervene. Lalli was too short to see over the crowd, but he found Sigrun’s bright red hair, and Mikkel’s girth separating the crowd, and they’ve already gone to the destination of the commotion. He followed after them.

“Oh, it’s just Sigrun,” a voice cockily stated, when Lalli finally came to the front of the crowd and stood behind Sigrun. He saw Erik, stupidly squaring up against Sigrun’s deadly gaze, even though he wasn’t as tall or as stacked as Sigrun was. Lalli wasn’t even looking at Erik or Sigrun however, but was looking at the hand that held Emil’s white shirt, and Lalli could not even register the emotions that flew through him when he saw the small amounts of blood, dotting the cotton fabric. Lalli looked into the face of his best friend, who was pressed against the wall, braced against Erik who held him there. Emil’s eyes were glassy, and Lalli knew that his glassy eyes meant that he had cried. But there was fury behind those eyes as well, and when Lalli’s gaze strayed to the knuckles on Emil’s hands, he found that they were red and were beginning to bruise. 

Lalli looked to Erik’s face, and found that one side was beginning to redden and bruise as well. But it wasn’t enough for Lalli. Erik needed to hurt _more_. 

“Oho, so you’re not scared of me?” Sigrun asked, to which Erik snorted. Lalli could practically hear the smirk that grew on Sigrun’s face, as she chuckled. “ _Good_ . Then you know better that _I_ shouldn’t be the one you’re scared of.” 

Sigrun stepped aside and Lalli was then face to face with Erik, who snorted at the sight of Lalli, all gangly and awkward in his too large sweater. Emil began struggling in Erik’s grip at the sight of Lalli, but Lalli caught his eye and blinked at him, telling him that everything was fine. Emil’s eyes softened under Lalli’z gaze, and he ducked his head down regretfully, _apologizing._

“I should be scared of _that_ gay freak?” 

From behind him, he could hear Tuuri’s offended gasp, and Reynir’s squeak of shock. Emil snarled something furiously in Swedish, while Sigrun and Mikkel both froze, standing stock still. Lalli didn’t even hear nor register anything, because he was busy remembering Onni’s voice in his head. “ _Make sure not to tuck your thumb in, or you might break it. Make sure your feet aren’t too spread apart, and when you swing, use your hips_.” 

Lalli gave Erik no warning, and Erik was too slow to notice the fist that came to clip him on his jaw.

Erik stumbled, and let Emil go, just as a few of Erik's friends came to Erik's aid. But Lalli didn't care, even as Sigrun pounced in on the fight, to leave Lalli unbothered.

Lalli raised his fist and Erik couldn’t defend himself from the next fist that came flying, and then the next.

And _yeah_ , Lalli thought in his mind. _He hated this stupid party._

* * *

Emil’s mother and father were not home when they returned to the Vasterstrom estate. The parents were away on a business trip, and were none the wiser to the brawl that Emil had instigated in the party. The car ride was tense as they drove home, and Lalli wanted Emil to squirm in the silence that he brought into the confined space. It was a different silence, compared to the calm ease that he used to bring into the car. Now, it was of uncertainty, confusion, and disappointment. The party had ended with Sigrun knocking out everyone who joined the fight, and Mikkel had to be the one to restrain her. Tuuri and Reynir had been busy trying to do damage control, before they too, ran away to stumble down the night, trying to drag Sigrun and Mikkel off before they got caught or what not. 

But when Lalli had knocked Erik out, he immediately grabbed Emil’s hand, dragged him out of the stuffy house, and demanded that they go home. Sigrun and the others be damned.

Lalli had not said anything since then, and Emil had been nervously drumming the steering wheel, while nursing a bloody nose in one hand. Lalli’s knuckles stung, and the adrenaline that came from the fight made itself known with how much his hands shook. Lalli bore through the pain anyway, and glared at Emil through his reflection on the car window. 

If Emil didn’t speak up soon, he knew there was hell to pay. 

Finally, Emil broke with a heavy, quivering sigh, and Lalli didn’t show that he noticed. 

“I know that what I did was stupid,” Emil began, voice nasally from his bloody nose. “I know I should’ve gone to you sooner, Lalli, I really wish I did! I just-- _ugh_ \--I _know_ you might not forgive me after this, if at all, but,” Emil broke himself off with a frustrated hand through his hair, before he grimaced in disgust when he forgot his hand was stained with blood. “Look, I’m so sorry, Lalli. I just--you were _right_. I should’ve listened, and now look where we are.” He gestured to the road before them, city lights running past them, making the shadows flicker and fluctuate, before he slammed his fingers back down on the steering wheel. Lalli didn’t shift in his seat, but he pressed his right temple into the cool glass. His hands throbbed numbly, with a sort of heat that seeped off of them. 

Finally speaking in the confined space between them, Lalli uttered, “I don’t care.” Emil looked at Lalli, startled and worried, but he continued. “Fight or no fight, doesn’t make a difference anyway. Would’ve eventually happened. But _why?_ ” 

“Why what, Lalli?” 

Lalli made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. _Why “what”? Really?! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Emil!_ Lalli sat up straight in his seat, back against the door as he gestured to Emil and the air between them angrily. The words finally came out, in an almost fine, continuous stream, filled with frustration. “Why did you go out with _Erik?_ Why did you say _yes?_ Why _him_ ? Why didn’t you just stay _with me?!_ ” 

His heart thudded so awfully loud in his chest, and Lalli was afraid Emil could hear it. How it slammed against his ribcage in fear and desperation, and how it set his nerves running with heat. His bloody fist shook even more now, and his throat felt too tight to breathe. Lalli closed his eyes, huddling into himself, to knock the feelings away. Bat them off like annoying bugs, even though each and every time, _they came back_. Refusing to die by his hand and always coming to leech off warmth. The thought of them almost hurt. Almost made the edge of his eyes blur and sting. 

Lalli heard Emil move, to reach in between them to grasp his hands. “Lalli, please, don’t do that...Come on.” Lalli batted Emil’s hands away, and the hurt that flashed in Emil’s eyes hit his heart like a sledgehammer, but Lalli’s emotions could not be untangled so easily by that alone. 

“Answer me!” Lalli shouted, and he only faintly realized that Emil had parked at the front gate of his home. The car engine smoothed down to cut off, and Lalli was left to look at Emil with sudden deafening silence. It was _so terribly_ uncomfortable. Emil sat still for a moment, bloody nose gleaming under a streetlight, before letting out a light chuckle, that didn’t sound all too light and happy.

“I felt bad for him, Lalli,” Emil leaned forward, pinching his nose, knowing better than to reach over and touch Lalli. Lalli could only stare under slitted eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Lalli hissed. 

“I felt bad for him, when he asked me out. Actually _genuinely_ got interested in him, too, cause why not? Like those stupid things mothers say, _if a boy teases or bullies you a lot, they like you!_ Fuck, I’m an idiot, right?” Emil chuckled, pressing the heel of his burned palm against one of his eyes. “But I gave it a try anyway, and maybe I wanted to confront him about _this_ too!” He gestured to the burn on his hand. “Except no! The date was all a prank on _me_ , and then they also wanted to make a move to prank on _you_ , and how the hell could I just _sit there?!_ ” Emil bursted, hands jutting out in front of him in an angry splay of rage. “A prank on me would’ve been fine! But a prank on _you?!_ Calling you words like _freak!_ A _savage?!_ A queer _fuck?!_ ”

Emil’s eyes were glassy, and Lalli had unfolded himself from his ball, silently reaching over to tap Emil on the shoulder. “Emil…” His call went unheard, and Emil continued. 

“My blood _boiled_ at that, and I couldn’t just sit by! I’ve had enough of their shit! They’ve been picking on me too much, I know, but they will _never_ pick on you. They should know _better_ than to hurt you!” He took a breath, and shook his head. “So, I got into a fight, cause I care about you! Gods, I care too much, love you too much, and _agh!_ ” Emil slammed both of his hands down on his eyes, falling quiet, so suddenly, that Lalli couldn’t breathe. 

“I said yes to a date with Erik, cause,” Emil sighed out, “ _maybe_ , I just love you too much.” 

Lalli let the words run several laps in his head. It bounded from his ears, leapt into his mind, and ran its way down his spine. It galloped across arteries, sunk into every bone, and made its way into his heart. Lalli didn’t know how he was even technically _breathing_ . His mind raced a mile a minute, and he couldn’t find the words, in Finnish, English, or the little _Swedish_ that he even knew. All coherent thought escaped him. All breath emptied his lungs.

 _Love and Emil_ . Two words, so infinitely different, and two things he wanted so bad. Now, they were both so near and very synonymous, yet he had not thought that they would be in this lifetime. Had not thought that those words would come _now_ . Yeah, maybe he was too young to dub things such as these as “ _love_ ”, but what better word was there? Love wasn’t a fixed emotion, and did not have a definite meaning. It was like liquid, shifting and morphing to fit different molds. 

If you were to ask him about them, the words morphed and changed, and raced down into his heart, and his heart filled with love. _Too much, so much_ , that his limited grasp of languages seemed to erase itself from his reverie. Relinquished itself to a force deeper and greater than human comprehension. 

Emil took Lalli’s silence the wrong way, and he fumbled with the car keys, the engine roaring as Emil cursed every god high above, in his native language. “I-I’m so sorry, Lalli,” he sounded so _broken_ . He sounded as if he was about to cry. “I’ll just drive you home, and we can--we can forget _all_ of this has ever happened. You can just _pretend_ you didn’t hear a thing, and we can just put this behind us, okay?” Emil laughed weakly, _wetly_ , ready to pull out from the street. 

Lalli snapped out of his daze, reaching for Emil. His mind panicked for words to say, and _oh fuck_ , there were too much. He could hardly breathe, and comprehend; let the world sink in and bleed into his body. His throat felt tight, and his chest, _even tighter._

“I-is it okay?” Lalli finally asked. “To love you? Are we okay? Are we allowed? People don’t think it’s fine--but is it okay? For you and me, to like each other this way?” There was a pathetic desperation in his voice which Lalli himself did not recognize, but did not even care to acknowledge. His heart was too windswept by the storm which was Emil, and he could not stand his ground any longer. Not like this. Not where he could finally get an answer. “Is it okay for me to like you? Is it alright to be gay?” 

The silence between them was fragile; only filled with breaths and tear-filled eyes. Lalli's eyes stung, and the lights of the street blurred. He had to blink away the tears that gathered in his eyes. He could not help leaning into the palm Emil pressed against his sharp cheek, nuzzling into the warmth there that made his heart burst and beat too hard. A gentle thumb swiped his cheek, where a tear had fallen-- _to culminate, settle, suppress._ Lalli reached up a hand to wipe at the dried blood on top of Emil’s upper lip. 

Emil broke out into an uncertain, but relieved smile. He looked breathless all the same. “I don’t know if others are okay with us--but as long as you’re okay with me, that’s good enough.” He chuckled, brushing Lalli’s fingers by his lip with his other free hand. “It’s cheesy to say, I know,” Emil rolled his eyes, and Lalli snorted. “But I just never thought that, you know, you’d like me back. And who gives a damn if we're gay? They can say we'll burn in hell, but the world's just gunna burn anyway.” Emil crinkled his eyes at that, releasing a silent laugh.

Lalli ran a hand through Emil’s hair briefly, his heart at ease and so full, that even if he remembered the events that had previously transpired, he wouldn’t even care about the dull throb of his knuckles. The butterflies in his stomach were enough, _were too much_ , and brushing Emil’s hair and having him cup his face like this was also enough. _Still too much_. This was better than sleeping in Emil’s bed, or having him play with his hands. Better than any summer drive and winter nights with him and the others.

There was suddenly too much in the world, yet so _little_ ; spanning from the way Emil looked at Lalli underneath his lashes. Narrowed down into the warm touch of their hands, stinging with blood and bruises. 

Emil leaned forward, and Lalli didn’t think much about leaning forward either. 

The kiss was a click of teeth, and the taste of blood. It was sweet, salty, with an insistent press. The sensation made his toes curls and made his ears tingle. He wanted to curl into Emil’s shirt, and just slowly disappear into his warmth, and never let go. Emil’s lips had been dry from the blood, but Lalli thought that was okay. He breathed him in and welcomed him. He didn’t remember which one of them opened their mouth first, but Lalli guessed it was himself, unconsciously opening and accommodating. He swiped a tongue across Emil’s bottom lip, tasted more blood there, and Emil returned the gesture in kind, and his tongue was _searing._ Lalli pulled back for a breath. 

He didn’t even know he had been gripping Emil’s hair so hard. He untangled his fingers from the golden strands, and the sight of Emil, disheveled and panting, had his heart constrict. Made the butterflies and heat in his stomach pool and culminate, _deep deep down._

“We-- _ahem,_ ” Emil cleared his throat. “We should go in first,” Emil reluctantly pulled away from Lalli sheepishly, turning the key in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life. Lalli breathed in, and clasped his shaking hands together, insistently looking away as Emil drove through the gates that opened for them. _If he looked at Emil, who bit his lip in nervous concentration, Lalli would lose it. Stupid, hot fucking Swede._ Lalli was near to actually losing his mind, now that he knew that Emil reciprocated his feelings. _It felt unreal._

Lalli breathed a sigh of relief when they finally parked the car in the garage, and they stepped out of the car, and immediately went through the door that led to the large kitchen of the ridiculous manor.

“Pinch your nose and don’t lean your head back. I’ll fetch the ice,” Lalli instructed Emil, already taking charge of the situation as Emil situated himself on the kitchen counter, perching himself on the edge as he pinched his nose, small drops of blood still making its way out. Lalli saw Emil wince, as he experimentally flexed his bruised knuckles. 

“My nose’ll be okay soon,” Emil told Lalli as Lalli fetched an ice pack, navigating the large kitchen with an almost expert ease. Emil sounded nasally and Lalli nearly snorted at the sound. “My knuckles still hurt like a bitch, though.”

Lalli rolled his eyes as he reached Emil by the counter. “You deserve it.” He poked Emil’s knuckle once, and Emil yelped, glaring at Lalli as if he emptied his favorite shampoo bottle down the drain. 

“ _Asshole_ ,” Emil hissed. 

“ _Bitch_ ,” Lalli huffed back. 

Emil chuckled softly in response, and the sound made Lalli slowly smile; made his chest feel warm and bottomless. A small wave of silence eased in between them, and Lalli took the opportunity to guide one of Emil’s free hands to the sink right beside him, to wash away any dried blood and debris. This hand wasn’t as bruised as the other that Emil pinched his nose with, but Lalli took care anyway, with nimble fingers. The sound of running water filled their silence. Lalli could sleep to this calmness. 

Emil’s one hand was now clean, red and purple flesh finally peeking through, revealing some of the burns there. There were little cuts here and there, and Lalli had made sure to brush them softly. Emil’s hand moved, cupped Lalli’s own, and Lalli looked up at him. 

“My turn,” Emil told him, and Lalli rolled his eyes again, but allowed Emil to wash his knuckles with his single hand anyway. It took twice as long, but Emil was super gentle and soft; his ministrations nearly putting Lalli to sleep, if not for the sound of the tap turning off. Lalli reached over to the nearly forgotten ice pack, pressing it into Emil’s hand. 

“Your nose okay now?” Lalli drew closer, prying Emil’s hand off his nose. Emil wiped off any remaining blood, and waited a moment for any more drops of blood to slip down as Lalli pressed the ice pack onto Emil’s battered knuckles. “I think it’s pretty much okay,” Emil told him after a moment. 

Lalli nodded, going back to the refrigerator to scour for more ice for their equally battered knuckles; Lalli’s, even more so after knocking Erik out. “I’m fetching more ice,” he told him off-handedly. Over his shoulder, he picked up on Emil’s soft expression, staring at him from across the room. Lalli could feel even more butterflies engulf his stomach. 

After Lalli had fetched enough ice, and put most of them into dish cloths or some spare towels lying around to create some make-shift cold compresses, he tossed one to Emil, who pressed it against his nose, the other laying on top of his knuckles on the counter. 

Lalli came to his side, and feeling the exhaustion finally creep deep into his bones, he leaned against Emil’s chest, laid his head on his shoulder. He sighed into the junction of Emil’s neck, and melted nearly seamlessly into his frame as he pressed the cold compress against his own knuckles. “You feel better?” He asked Emil with a tired grumble.

Lalli felt Emil brush away a few strands of hair from his face. Lalli blearily opened his eyes, and looked into Emil’s. His eyes were deep, soft blues. He could fall into them over and over again. “You know what would make me feel better?” Emil was grinning at him, and Lalli huffed. 

“ _What_?” he grouched. 

Emil’s grin widened. “This.” He pecked Lalli’s nose, and Lalli scrunched his face up, feeling his toes curl once again and feeling the heat that crept its way up his neck. Then stupid Emil did it again, this time on his forehead--then his cheek, moving on to the other; onto each eyelid, and then the bridge of his nose. Lalli leaned back, put a hand on Emil’s face and pushed him away, feeling embarrassment seep out of his bones, but mostly affection pouring out. “ _Mrrr_ ,” Lalli grumbled in protest, but couldn’t fight the almost abashed twitch of his eye. 

Emil laughed against his hand, before kissing the palm there too. Lalli _mrrrred_ , taking his hand away, and opted to staple them into Emil’s sides to softly pin him to the counter instead. He’s never held Emil properly like this before; the feeling of Emil--solid, warm, and _real_ in his hands is almost jarring. _Visceral._ Lalli slowly, held Emil closer and hugged him, laying his head on his chest to hide away once more as Emil began to quiet down.

“This is real,” Lalli told him breathil; posed as a question, except, the answer was clear. 

Emil hummed his affirmative, and it echoed into Lalli’s head. Emil was a bit shorter than Lalli, so instead of trying to lay his chin on top of Lalli’s head, he just pressed his nose into his hair, and closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a while, until the ice from their cold compresses melted into a soggy mush into the cloth. Lalli moved first, and then pressed a kiss against Emil’s lips, this time, fully _savoring_ whatever they had. Emil was taken by surprise. 

The comforting warmth of the kiss filled Lalli to the brim, and the world became narrow and clear once again. How Emil breathed against him, with his chest brushing his in every breath. His every sigh that Lalli seemed to swallow, and every tremor he absorbed from his flesh, from where Lalli pinned him against the counter. Lalli pressed his cold fingers against Emil’s jaw, and it spurred Emil on to open his mouth, and taste him. Lalli met him in kind, tilted his head a bit to the side, and let the kiss go on a bit deeper. 

Lalli pressed him a bit more firmly into the counter, the tingle in his spine stretching in every length and breadth of his nerves; raced down to his fingertips, making them shake for something better to hold. Lalli slipped his fingers into Emil’s hair, and _tugged._ Emil gasped, and Lalli bit into his lower lip.

He felt Emil’s knees nearly buckle, and Lalli grinned against the kiss. 

_Maybe, he didn’t fully hate this night, after all._


	2. Well, That Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what happens in this chapter, don't even try to hide why you're here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, me? Publishing this _NOW _after promising to give it soon?? Well, writing smut isn't my forte, and this is my 2nd time writing it so far, so excuse how stupid all of this is. Thank you.__
> 
> _  
> _(and side-note: i made this quite quick, so there's like, no editing and this is non-beta'd, so im sorry :'D )__  
> 

Emil loved _soft_ physical affection; Lalli fixing his hair into place, or patting his shoulder gently, like consoling a hurt puppy. Emil leaned into the smallest of touches, and Lalli had known that for a very long time.

But Lalli thought that maybe _soft_ touches weren’t the only things Emil appreciated.

And it was holding true, when Lalli allowed his hold to trace down from Emil’s waist, to dig his fingers into Emil’s hips, to hold him into place. He was squirming _too_ much, and so, Lalli dug his thumbs over where the dip of his hips would be. Instead of making the shorter man stop his squirming, _gods_ , it only made him arch into his touch, and Lalli swallowed the breathless curse that came along with it. Lalli found this interesting. 

Experimentally, he squeezed a hand on Emil’s hip, and the other, made to grab his ass. 

Emil jolted in his grip, almost hiking himself up in between Lalli’s legs. Lalli smirked against Emil’s lips, a tongue peeking out to swipe at them, before disconnecting to finally take a breath. He admired his work; Emil breathless from the kiss, eyes glazed and chest rising to steal back air into his lungs. His lips were red and bruised, almost like his knuckles. His hair was so badly ruffled, that Emil would’ve been mortified, but right now, Lalli found it _hot_ . He was pinned against the counter, almost riding Lalli’s thigh in between his legs, panting and heaving red and _fuck_ — 

“Mmh, like that?” Lalli asked him, fingers running distracting circles over Emil’s hips. Emil gripped the counter behind him with both hands, leaning back, as if he could melt into it. 

“What?” Emil managed, breathless.

Lalli nearly rolled his eyes. He didn’t kiss him _that_ hard to make him this stupid. 

With a heated stare into Emil’s eyes, he flexed his fingers roughly, reaching over to hold Emil’s ass and pulled his hips flush fully against his own, drawing a smirk from Lalli when Emil gasped delightfully, blue eyes wide. “Do you like _this_?” He brushed his lips over Emil’s in a tease, and the man shuddered in his hold, fingers flying over to grip Lalli’s sweater like a lifeline. 

“I-I think I do,” Emil breathed out, chuckling against Lalli’s lips. “Maybe _too much_ ” Lalli leaned into Emil’s lips, as he traced them down from his mouth, to the very edge of his jaw, heading down to trace kisses down the line of his throat. Lalli let him continue, until they were breathing the same air, and until their bodies were pressed too close, _too tight_ , until they both no longer knew where the other ended or began. 

When Lalli pulled back, to peer down at Emil, everything felt so _unreal_. It was a moment of shared breath and astonishment, and in that small moment, Emil raised his hands up to cup Lalli’s face, and there was nothing more natural in the world than just leaning into his palm. Just existing in this space. 

“Lalli,” Emil called him, eyes searching into his. Lalli opened his eyes at the question. “So, you’re really okay with me? Like — _really_ okay?” Emil practically _bled_ insecurity from his body, as he leaned into Lalli’s arms. Lalli didn’t know how many times he could roll his eyes in one night. Lalli cupped his face in return and stared sternly, almost _accusingly_ down into his eyes. 

“Do I have to kiss you every time to make sure?” Lalli grumbled (though it wasn’t really a complaint), before pressing his lips against Emil’s. His one hand was impatient — reaching up and into Emil’s shirt, his cold fingers causing Emil to gasp against him. 

The Swede almost hiked himself up the counter, and Lalli _finally_ felt him through his pants. Instinctively, his hips rolled into him, and the pain of Emil clenching his shoulders and gasping against his collar was welcome. When Emil peered up at him, eyes glazed, he couldn’t help his hand reaching over Emil's zipper, and just pulled it _down_. 

Lalli contemplated for a moment, as his fingers reached into the waistband of Emil’s boxers, what he was supposed to do next. He couldn’t help himself moving, and also couldn’t _stop_ moving if he tried, because seeing Emil just _losing_ himself in front of him was a sight that Lalli wanted to keep on seeing. He hadn’t even considered what he was _supposed to do_ — now that Emil was hot and heavy in his hand. Not quite hard yet, but firm and _there_. 

Emil was gasping against him, and Lalli watched his face, not quite knowing how Emil liked it. Did he like to stroke it softly? Firmly? Lalli squinted his eyes, looked down and gave an experimental tug, softly at first. Emil sucked in a breath, and Lalli’s one hand that was stuck up Emil’s shirt played with a pert nipple, to which Emil moaned again and Lalli wanted to hear _more_. 

He gave another pump of his hand, and this time, it was firm, and Emil shuddered, one hand releasing the counter to bite down on his hand, almost muffling a cry. _That_ — Lalli found — sent an entire wave of heat down his body. He couldn’t help but stroke him some more, wanting to see him come undone under Lalli’s merciful touch. 

Then Emil wrapped his fingers around Lalli’s hand on the base of his cock, and Lalli looked up, just as Emil kissed him on the corner of his mouth, lips quivering. 

“I like it slow — but _firm_ , Lalli,” Emil’s breath was hot against his ear and Lalli couldn’t help tensing up as goosebumps lined his flesh, his own arousal making itself known in the heated words. Then he found Emil guiding his hand up and down, slowly — the Swede mumbling soft curses along the way — and all Lalli could do was just _watch_ in complete rapture as Lalli let Emil use his hand for his pleasure. The sight made Lalli suck in a small hiss of a breath, feeling awfully tight in his own pants.

“Uh sorry, Lalli, do you want me to — ?” Emil vaguely nodded down to Lalli, shame and embarrassment coloring his features, after finding that he was only pleasuring himself. Lalli only widened his eyes briefly before nodding, heart beating fast as Emil’s other hand found its way down. Lalli didn’t stop pumping Emil in his hands though, as the Swede freed him from his confines, and Lalli hissed at his warm fingers, enveloping him. 

Then Lalli found Emil kissing him, and he was moaning into his mouth, just as Emil’s hand played with the head of his cock. Lalli bit Emil’s lip, before stroking him more firmly, not willing to lose so soon — because his hands were warm — _too warm_ — and this felt even _better_ than he thought. He knew how to work Lalli, firmly up his shaft, and passing his head as he went down — _Lalli wanted to bite him_ . Then Emil was thrusting into his hands, gradually climbing closer and closer. Lalli pulled back, wanting to watch Emil, as he squeezed his hand a bit more firmly around his shaft — _up and down_. 

“Gods, _Lalli_ — I,” Emil whimpered, before his forehead fell onto Lalli’s shoulder. “Please, I’m near — _I’m_ -” He didn’t know what he was begging for anymore, but Lalli didn't dare try and guess, as he stopped his hand briefly. Emil was about to raise his head, but then Lalli got the brilliant idea to bring their cocks together, and Emil arched into the feeling — hot, velvety skin, _too much_. 

“ _Ah_ —” Lalli swallowed Emil’s moan, as they both moved and rolled their hips, out of rhythm and uneven, though it didn’t matter. They both thrusted against each other, muscles tensing and coiling deliciously, they didn’t care if they stretched or sprained. Then Emil squeezed tighter around him, and Lalli whimpered before biting into Emil’s shoulder, gasping against his clothes. Lalli stroked him faster in revenge, sensing Emil’s jaunty moves of his hips as a sign he was nearing. 

Then Lalli whispered, “ _Emil_ ,” like a command, before biting on the lobe of his ear, the sharp pain contrasting so well against the pleasure of Lalli’s hand, Emil didn’t quite process in time how he came before he fully felt it, shuddering and chanting against Lalli. He quite liked the way his name fell from his lips in desperate wishes, so Lalli caught Emil’s lips distractedly, holding Emil’s hand around his shaft as he chased his own pleasure. 

Then Lalli finally came, the world narrowing down to his cock in Emil’s hands, and he could feel himself falling off his high, opening his eyes to see Emil looking at him, as if he couldn’t quite believe Lalli was real. Lalli couldn’t help but lean his forehead against Emil’s, closing his eyes, before he finally stopped shuddering. Lalli wanted to ask Emil if he had done good, had satisfied him, had done even _enough_ and — 

“That was _amazing_ , Lalli,” Emil spoke, breathless, giving Lalli a firm kiss on the lips, being mindful of keeping his soiled hands away from touching Lalli. Then Emil commented, "We can't just stay like this forever, though, even if I want to. My knuckles still hurt," and Lalli rolled his eyes, the moment now promptly broken, and now feeling icky with their soiled hands. Emil couldn’t help but kiss Lalli one more time though, his face bursting with happiness, as they both pulled away, needing to clean themselves. 

“ _Mrrr_ , stupid,” Lalli called him, though he couldn’t quite hide the pleased grin on his lips. 

They were lucky that they cleaned each other fast in the kitchen, and were able to just eat some spare cheesecake from the fridge while lounging on the kitchen counters straight afterwards. Sigrun and the others came bursting through the garage door after a while, complaining about how they almost got run over by a car while running down the streets, and how Reynir almost strangled himself, climbing over the gates of Emil’s home. 

“But most importantly, have the both of you just been eating cheesecake while we were all out there — risking our _lives_ for you?!” Sigrun glared at them, and Lalli simply blinked at her, not giving anything away. 

Emil had no such luck, and promptly blushed red, shoveling the cheesecake into his mouth while pointedly avoiding eye contact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason why I got to finish this smut chapter now was because I got SO HEATED that we only have a few smut fics in this fandom, and I've been consuming the same type of stuff, so I couldn't help but just ADD SOME MORE. SO HERE. THERE YOU GO. Consider my soul sold to the devil. I've had two different versions in the drafts, and decided with this one, cause the other one had more long forms of teasing and i was planning it to be long af in general, and idk if yall are into that.

**Author's Note:**

> okeeeee, that all went well.


End file.
